


Cages

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t the night Kurt expected at all.</p><p>set between 5x20 (“The Untitled Rachel Berry Project”) and 6x01 (“Loser Like Me”) with some spoilers assumed for 6x01</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cages

**Author's Note:**

> This is angsty but with undercurrents of love, set in the summer after 5x20. I love both Kurt and Blaine, and I think their communication problems are fascinating and on both sides.
> 
> Thanks to Liz for the beta and the support (and the sobbing at each other over text)!

Kurt’s phone trilled in the pocket of his diner uniform as he elbowed his way toward the door of the bus, pushing through the sluggish mass of sweaty commuters too hot to care that someone was trying to get out at his stop.

He emerged in triumph onto the sidewalk, the thick July air no more humid than the bus’s ineffective air conditioning had been spitting out. The street was busy with people heading home or out to dinner, but at least he wasn’t crammed shoulder-to-shoulder like miserable sardines with them anymore.

He was surprised to find Carole’s name on his phone’s screen, and his heart flew into his throat as he answered. “Hello?” It wasn’t their usual night to talk, and she usually texted him about minor things instead of calling. His mind spun through a thousand different horrible things that could have happened to his dad, to her, to the house, to the shop, to one of his friends -

“Hi, honey,” her voice came over the phone, and he quickly catalogued it as calm, smiling, and unstressed. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I clicked on the wrong name on my phone, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to call back or worry if you saw you’d missed a call from me. I was just going to leave a message.” She laughed a little, like she didn’t realize that she’d turned his world completely upside-down just for a second. “Not that it isn’t wonderful to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too,” he said, closing his eyes for just a second to steady himself - nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong - and then pushing into the flow of pedestrians on the sidewalk so he could head down the street toward the apartment. “I’m glad everything is okay.”

“If you call me needing to wear my reading glasses when I use my phone okay,” she said.

Kurt breathed out a laugh and skirted a bike chained to a parking meter, its rear wheel brushing against his pants. Whatever New York detritus it might have left behind on the fabric was something he couldn’t even contemplate. It didn’t matter, really. His clothes would be going into the hamper as soon as he got home; he’d sweated through his shift at the diner, and the trip back to Bushwick had left him wilting in the first true heat wave of the summer. He couldn’t be home and out of them fast enough.

“How are you doing? Having a good day?” Carole asked him.

It had been a mind-numbing day at work without a single song to sing and far too many plates of french fries to serve, his clothes were itching where they were plastered to him, and his scalp felt like it was crawling with bugs from the heat. “The weather is awful, but as soon as I get home I’m going to spend about an hour dozing in a lukewarm bath with soft music and aromatherapy bath salts. And then I’m going to have a salad for dinner, sit in front of the fan and catch up on Vogue, and go to bed early. So the day is ending well, at least.”

“I’m sure you and Blaine will enjoy that,” she said.

Kurt turned the corner onto their street and kept his voice even. “Blaine’s out with June tonight,” he said, the whole reason he had such a blissful evening ahead of him with nothing to worry about but taking care of himself. He walked a little faster, eager to get it started, eager to free himself from his clothes, the heat, and the noise of the city around him. He couldn’t wait to have some _peace_ to be able to soothe the rough edges of his temper. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin.

“Oh, there’s something nice about having a little time to yourself, too,” she said. “Your dad’s doing paperwork late tonight, and I’m thinking of having a glass of wine and watching some terrible TV while I wait for him.”

Dodging a pair of hipsters lounging on the stoop, he hurried up the steps of his building and pushed through the front door. He knew Blaine wouldn’t agree with her; all he ever seemed to want was to be together. But after a long day at work and long weeks of summer with his friends gone and long months of struggle and school work and Blaine needing things Kurt didn’t know how to help him understand he already had, Kurt felt like his every nerve was exposed and raw. Having some space sounded to him like the perfect antidote.

Kurt’s legs carried him up the stairs in quickening strides, the dread of the unexpected call not quite gone from his chest. “Did Dad find a replacement for Cassius yet? I worry about him working Saturdays, too. It’s too much.”

“Not yet,” Carole said, “but he’s looking. Don’t worry; I’ve got my eye on him.”

“I know,” he said. He couldn’t _not_ worry, not about his father, not when he’d nearly lost him more than once, but he had to trust Carole to care about his dad and be honest with him from afar.

“Anyway, I promise we’re fine here. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt assured her. “I was just on my way home, anyway.” He walked down the hallway to the apartment, his heart leaping at the thought of the respite that was waiting for him inside. He’d have hours to himself. Hours of peace. Hours of not having to take care of anything or anyone but himself. Hours where he could shut off his mind and his worries, more or less. He felt jittery in his skin with it being so close. “It’s nice to hear a friendly voice.”

“It’s always nice to hear your voice, too, Kurt,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words.

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you on - “ Kurt’s words broke off as he slid open the door to the apartment.

Inside, instead of darkness and silence, instead of a quiet, calm place of retreat, he found the loft lit with dozens upon dozens of glowing tea lights tucked on every free surface. The kitchen table was set with their nicest dishes, pots were simmering on the stove, and a beautiful, low arrangement of red and yellow roses was sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Blaine came out from the bedroom, dressed in a crisp polo and pair of nice slacks, a welcoming smile on his face.

Kurt stood in the doorway in stunned, awed dismay. A miserable trickle of sweat dripped down his spine, and the bag on his shoulder slipped down to his bent elbow. The pulse at his temple throbbed painfully.

“Carole,” he said after a moment, “I have to go.” He hung up the phone, steeled himself, and stepped inside.

“Hi,” Blaine said warmly, coming to greet him with a quick kiss Kurt met out of habit.

Kurt’s stomach churned as he set down his bag. The apartment looked wonderful, and Blaine looked handsome and happy. Kurt hated that it felt like something out of a nightmare to have to face it when all he’d wanted was to have a little peace.

But god, this wasn’t the night he’d expected at _all_.

“What are you doing home? What about June?” he asked in some confusion, trying not to let the raw edge of his disappointment color his voice too much.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Blaine said, his eyes going a little fragile and hopeful. “I know things have been... complicated since I moved back in, and I wanted to do something special for you. For us. I cooked dinner, and I thought we could watch a movie after.”

Kurt looked around at all of the candles, the smell of wax warring with whatever Blaine was making for dinner, and he felt a drop of sweat slip out of the hair at the back of his neck to slide under the collar of his shirt. He swallowed, his mouth dry and his head hurting, and tried to be grateful. He knew he should be grateful.

And he was. Of course he was.

Still - “We’re in the middle of a heat wave, Blaine. The candles are heating up the apartment.”

The smile on Blaine’s face froze, then slowly dropped away, and Kurt’s heart fell with it. He didn’t want to _hurt_ him, only it was _so_ hot, and it made no sense to be cooking and have candles burning and -

“You’re right,” Blaine said quietly. He walked over to the bookcase toward where they kept the candle snuffer.

Guilt warring with satisfaction, because no matter how nice the gesture was he _was_ right, Kurt toed off his shoes, his damp socks clinging to his feet. “How long do I have until dinner?”

Blaine glanced over at the clock and then back to him. “About ten minutes.” His voice was still soft.

“Okay,” Kurt said with a nod and a flash of bitter regret for the bath he’d have to give up. “I’ll take a fast shower.”

“Okay,” Blaine replied, his mouth tight but smiling.

Kurt quickly selected some new clothes instead of the loungewear he was planning on putting on after his bath, trying to match Blaine’s formality, and then he retreated to the bathroom.

The intensity of the shower’s spray was nothing like the cool, calm bath he’d been dreaming of all day, but there was still a relief to be able to slough off the grime of the city and get himself clean. The water was bliss, as was the way his skin felt without sweat clinging to it.

He wished he could stay there for hours, lost in the water, safe behind door and curtains and the wall of sound. But he couldn’t.

Still, once he was clean, he was able to breathe in a full, easy breath and let the water pound down his back and over his shoulders just for a moment. He only had that moment; he had to rush instead of linger, but he stepped out of the tub feeling polished and a little bit less sucked dry. He quickly smoothed on moisturizer, finger-styled his hair up off his forehead, and pulled on the shorts and shirt he’d chosen. They felt stiff on his body but right, right that he was making an effort.

There was a tightness around his eyes he ignored as he looked in the mirror, getting his hair just so. He might have wanted to hide for a bit longer, but he couldn’t keep Blaine waiting. His fiancé had made him a special dinner, and no matter his previous plans he wasn’t going to be so rude as to let it get overcooked.

The candles were all dark except for one on the table when Kurt stepped out into the apartment, and Blaine was busy at the stove, transferring the contents of one of the pans into a bowl.

Kurt could see from the set of Blaine’s shoulders that he wasn’t happy, but he had no idea what to say to make Blaine feel better. The candles _had_ been heating up the apartment. It was already less overwhelming with them out.

“Can I help?” Kurt asked as Blaine scooped rice into another bowl.

“I’ve got it,” Blaine replied, curt but not unkind. “Thanks.”

Kurt nodded and stepped toward the table. One of the plates had a red rosebud arranged across it, and he smiled a little at it. He touched its thorny stem with his fingertip, then raised the bud to his nose to smell it. It didn’t have much scent, but the velvety petals felt soft against his nose.

“The table looks nice,” he told Blaine.

Blaine’s smile was a little more genuine when he turned around, bowls in hand. “Thanks.” He set the bowls on the table. “Please sit.”

They settled in, arranging napkins and serving their food in a silence Kurt wanted to believe was companionable, though the little glances Blaine was shooting him from across the table were anything but easy. They were full of concern, full of vulnerability and need for his approval, and Kurt tried not to be angry that he couldn’t just have dinner without walking the tightrope they seemed to be on more often than not.

“The _haricots verts_ are beautiful,” he said, scooping out some of the stir-fry Blaine had made. “They had these at the store? Maybe they have a new supplier. That would be amazing.”

Blaine passed him the rice. “No, I went to the farmer’s market this morning. These are organic, too. I know you like that.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kurt told him. He couldn’t help but be touched by the effort, because it was more than sweet... but if he was going to be honest he would have far preferred Blaine to give up his insistence on having the living room fan oscillate and spend most of its time _not_ blowing on them than to go out of his way to find the perfect green beans.

“I know,” Blaine said with a shrug. His eyes stayed fixed on Kurt’s face, hopeful and sure. “I wanted to.”

Kurt took a bite of his meal, the spicy black bean sauce on the chicken almost too salty-strong on his tongue after a long day serving up greasy fried foods and creamy desserts. His stomach clenched tight, but he kept his face neutral as he swallowed. It was a perfectly good dinner. It wasn’t Blaine’s fault that it wasn’t the crisp, cool, mild salad Kurt was craving.

“Do you like it?” Blaine asked him, watching him carefully.

It wasn’t what he wanted for dinner, but Kurt knew he had to nod. He had to say yes. He had to. He knew that was what Blaine needed. “It’s delicious,” he said.

Blaine’s mouth curled up in a pleased smile, and he took a bite of his dinner with what looked like satisfaction.

Kurt chewed his own bite and breathed in through his nose, slow and steady, trying to focus on the comfort of having his fiancé across the table from him. He should have been happy. He was spending the evening with Blaine. Not that he didn’t do that every day now, not that it was a rare night that they were apart now that they lived together, now that their friends had left, now that it was just the two of them inside these four walls.

He’d once dreamed of and planned giddily for this future, and he was living it. He’d reached this dream. It should have felt good. It was supposed to.

Even on a day when he was so tired he could barely sit up, when he’d been craving and planning for a night of silence instead of romance, he knew he should be feeling good. He hated that he didn’t.

But he didn’t.

He looked across the table at the man he loved, and as much as he wanted to let go and enjoy the moment he just couldn’t. He could eat, he could talk, but he couldn’t relax, not when he’d had such a long day, not when he needed something other than romance tonight, not when he didn’t want to hurt Blaine but didn’t want to be hurting, either.

“So, what else did you do today?” he asked, because even if he wanted silence, he knew that silence with Blaine wasn’t always a good thing.

“Well,” Blaine said with a self-conscious duck of his head that made Kurt’s stomach twist a little, “mostly I was getting ready for tonight, but I did talk to Tina for a while, too.”

“How’s Tina?” Kurt asked and tried to listen as best he could.

As much as he hated it, it was a relief when they were done with dinner, to be able to stop making himself talk when all he wanted was Vogue and silence. Kurt helped clear the plates and put away the leftovers and then retreated to the couch as Blaine put the pans in the sink to soak. Sinking onto the cushions, he flicked on the fan and closed his eyes, letting the force of the direct breeze start to blow away the headache and the sweat beginning to bead at his temples from the temperature and spice of the meal.

It felt like heaven to get to sit with his feet up, cooling down and calming down at last. The fan and the water running in the sink were almost like white noise, and he made himself breathe carefully, slowly, in and out, centering himself and letting the jagged pieces of his mind fall slowly into place, one by -

“I thought _Four Weddings and a Funeral_ would be perfect!” Blaine said, coming to sit beside him and making the cushion rock and dip with the weight of his body. “It seemed like a better wedding movie than _Runaway Bride_ , anyway. Plus Hugh Grant.”

Kurt’s muscles tensed to keep him from tilting with the cushion. “I don’t know what it is with you and Hugh Grant and his floppy hair,” he said. It was with some effort that he made himself open his eyes.

Blaine was frowning at the fan. “Did you turn off the oscillation again?” he asked.

“I just wanted a breeze,” Kurt replied.

Blaine got up again and went over to the fan. He flicked a switch in the back, and the divine breeze that had been soothing Kurt turned away from him in a slow arc. “The air flow is so much better when it’s oscillating. We’ve talked about this.”

“We certainly have,” Kurt muttered darkly and pushed himself a little more upright on the couch.

Blaine came back to sit beside him. He reached for the remote, flicking on the television. “Are you okay with _Four Weddings_?”

“It’s fine,” Kurt said. He didn’t really want to think about weddings right then, not with their wedding planning a constant topic of conversation between them, but if they were watching a movie about then then at least they weren’t talking about it.

And Hugh Grant _was_ kind of cute.

They settled into the movie, and with the sips of Kurt’s favorite iced tea Blaine had brought over with him and the slow slide into the comfort of a story playing out in front of him Kurt began to relax. He could feel his eyes sliding to half-mast, his spine loosening, his body letting go little by little.

It wasn’t silence, but it was close. The movie didn’t require anything from him, and if his eyes wanted to drift shut, well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know the story. He could just let it happen to him instead of having to engage, instead of having to talk, instead of having to think, instead of -

Blaine slid a little closer, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s cheek and pulling him back to awareness. “Are you comfortable?” he asked. “Is this okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kurt told him.

“Are you sure?” Blaine slid his fingers into Kurt’s, pulling their hands onto his thigh; Kurt twitched at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t pull away from Blaine’s touch. “I wanted to give you a really nice night. We haven’t had a lot of time together.”

 _All we do is spend time together_ , Kurt thought with a wave of bitterness and frustration. He felt caught in Blaine’s grasp, not held but captured, too aware of the fact that he couldn’t move without having to pull away. He didn’t _want_ to move. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He just didn’t want to have to fight to do so.

“No, it’s okay, Blaine,” Kurt made himself say, trying to rally, trying to say the right thing. “Thank you.”

Blaine’s face clouded with disappointment despite Kurt’s very best effort, and Kurt’s heart fell at never knowing how to give him what he needed. No matter what he did, it wasn’t what Blaine needed. It made him feel helpless. It made him feel a little angry, because he _should_ have known what to do by now, and Blaine should have known it, too. He wasn’t angry at Blaine, but he was still angry.

He tightened his fingers on Blaine’s hand, trying to make him feel okay.

They slipped into silence again, and Kurt tried to let the movie wash over him. He tried to find the peace he needed. He had a cool drink, a fan (more or less, he thought, as it whirred away from him again), a romantic comedy, and the man he loved, and it should have been enough.

“Oh, look at those flower arrangements!” Blaine said suddenly. “Those are beautiful.”

Kurt looked away from the actors to consider the flowers, and he had to wonder when he’d stopped noticing wedding flowers, when he’d stopped doting over them whenever he saw them. “They are.”

“We’re both free tomorrow, right?” Blaine continued. “We should go to the flower market first thing and get some inspiration. We should start narrowing things down.”

Kurt was aware that once he would have been excited. He used to plan weddings for fun. He used to plan weddings in his _sleep_. But it was hard for him to drum up enthusiasm for getting up early and traveling forever on the humid, foul-smelling subway to look at flowers for a theme they hadn’t decided on for a venue they hadn’t even selected yet.

“I can’t do it by myself, Kurt,” Blaine said more sharply when Kurt didn’t answer immediately.

“I know,” Kurt said, his stomach clenching again. “I know. I’ll go with you.” He didn’t have a choice. Obviously he didn’t. He knew that. He had to go. It was their wedding. It was Blaine.

Some of the stiffness in Blaine’s arm against his loosened again. “Thank you.”

Blaine didn’t talk again for a while, but Kurt couldn’t let himself go again. He tried, but he felt on guard, waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next thing that Blaine would need or want or not be happy about from him. He was too aware that no matter how comfortable Blaine seemed to be, there was a tension between them that they couldn’t erase, not even when they were just themselves, alone, when they were supposed to be the most at ease of all.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And it was worse that Kurt could sit there feeling tense and tight and Blaine was able to melt into him like nothing was wrong at all.

By the time Gareth’s funeral was on the screen, Blaine had tipped his head onto Kurt’s shoulder, sniffling through the service, his hand tight on Kurt’s.

“I really hate this part,” Blaine whispered.

“I know.” Kurt stroked his thumb over Blaine’s hand and wanted to comfort him further, wanted to cry over Matthew and Gareth and their lost love, wanted to feel it all, but mostly he felt trapped.

He couldn’t help it. He wanted to be here, but he felt trapped, unable to get out of his head, unable to get out of his life.

He wanted to be happy. He wanted to be deliriously in love. He wanted it to feel easy and safe again, not tense, not filled with hidden traps and unexpected hurts. He wanted Blaine to be happy with him, not endlessly insecure about everything. He wanted to feel like the best place to retreat to was Blaine’s embrace, not solitude. He wanted their life to be simple, not harder and harder the longer they lived together again.

It was all wrong.

He _loved_ Blaine, loved him so much, but it was different, it was harder, and he just couldn’t find a way that it wasn’t.

“Our wedding is going to be so beautiful,” Blaine breathed as the movie reached its climax. “We’re going to make it perfect.”

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and wanted to believe him. He wanted to feel that way.

He made a noise he hoped sounded like agreement, because he’d always thought of their wedding as the beginning of their adult life together, the beginning of their dreams coming true. He’d thought it would feel like freedom. But it didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel like the beginning but like the start of an ending. It felt like something grinding them down to dust, not building them up higher. It felt like a cage, something to trap them both in this cycle of conflict and confusion.

But it was Blaine, and Kurt loved him with all of his heart. He just did. He had to agree.

His wordless answer clearly wasn’t enough. Blaine lifted his head and pulled back, still holding his hand but stiff again, and Kurt’s heart grew cold with the reality of that cage around them proven once more.

Still, it was Blaine, and as they shut off the television and readied the loft for the night, Kurt watched Blaine’s tight shoulders and ached to rub the tension out of them. He ached to feel him close and happy. He ached to find a way for things to feel better, if only for a little while.

He watched Blaine’s slim waist and strong arms, wished they were the solace they used to be but still wanted to be near them. He still wanted _him_ , wanted to make things better, wanted to reach out to him however he could.

He knew he could retreat and get some time for himself. Blaine wouldn’t push, not now. He’d probably leave him alone for a precious hour or more, retreating into himself because the night hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. But Kurt wanted them both to be at ease. He wanted them to be _connected_. He so desperately wanted them to be okay instead of... this, whatever they were instead.

“Wasn’t our night supposed to end in the bedroom?” he asked, soft and a little sultry, as Blaine walked over toward the sink. It wouldn’t fix things, but maybe it would make things better. Maybe it would make things make sense.

Blaine’s head lifted, and he looked over at Kurt with surprise for a second before his eyes narrowed. “It’s not too hot for you?” he asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“When has that ever stopped us before?”

Blaine watched him for a moment before resting his hand at the edge of the sink like it was a declaration. “I should clean up these pans,” he said, his jaw working. “I know how you get about there being a mess out here in the morning.”

Kurt didn’t let himself flinch, but his chin lifted at the rejection. “I know you think I’m crazy about that, but you weren’t here for the ant infestation when Santana - “

“No, I wasn’t,” Blaine snapped back, “but I’ve heard _all_ about it, so I will wash these pans, and then you won’t need to tell me you were worried about waking up to bugs.”

“There are two pots and not a sink full of dishes, they’re soaking, and _I_ am the one who suggested you leave them and come with me,” Kurt said, stung by the implication that the situation was _his_ fault. He took a step back toward the bedroom. “But if you don’t want to - “

“I do,” Blaine said. He sighed and looked up at Kurt with a hesitant shyness and perhaps a hint of apology. “I do.” He let go of the sink. “Of course I do, Kurt. I love you.”

Kurt looked at him for a moment, trying to find the love in Blaine’s face instead of the rejection he’d offered at first, the way Blaine always pulled away from him when he was feeling upset. It was hard to understand, but he could see it. He knew Blaine loved him, despite it all. He _knew_ it.

His shoulders dropped, and he let himself smile a little. “I love you, too.”

Blaine’s smile was faint but real, and he didn’t hesitate to follow him to their bed. He didn’t hesitate to fit himself into Kurt’s arms. He didn’t hesitate, neither of them did, and that much felt good. That much felt right.

There was something in the curve of Blaine’s mouth that felt sad against Kurt’s, but it opened for him all the same, let him in. It softened and eased with each kiss until it was simple enough to forget what came before.

At least for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I live my fandom life spoiler-free! Thanks for respecting that!


End file.
